


UFO

by sonshineandshowers



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fevers, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers
Summary: Bright wakes in a sweat, but that's totally normal, right? Dying of the heat in the middle of winter is nothing to worry about. A silly dammit, Bright, you have a fever fic.For Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt Fevers.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	UFO

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elated_witch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elated_witch/gifts).



Screaming awake was accompanied by sweat-soaked sheets, sticking to Malcolm's arms and wrapping around his feet. His underwear was sopping with sweat, his t-shirt more charcoal than light grey. He slid out of his restraints and pulled the sheets off the bed, bringing the whole pile with him to the bathroom.

The swamp emerged again at lunch, wetting through the underarms of his shirt, beading on the back of his neck. "You're glistening," Gil pointed out the moisture on his face, "a little hot under the collar in here?"

Malcolm let out an embarrassed grimace and slinked away to the bathroom. He washed up in the sink, tried to blot away some of the sweat from his chest. A look at his watch told him he had at least a few more hours until he could go home and change. He cleaned as up as best he could and went back to work.

For as warm as he was at the precinct, he froze in his loft. He checked the thermostat, which told him the problem was in his head. He pulled out extra blankets from the closet and cocooned in bed. It wasn’t like he could sleep, but at least under blanket mountain he could stop shaking enough to read.

Six mornings waking in similar sweats, six days hiding extra dampness in paper towels and a change of clothes, six nights freezing his ass off. He got _really_ good at laundry and chalked everything else up to a hassle.

"So fancy you need a wardrobe change now?" JT commented after picking up that his shirt had swapped a few days into the behavior.

Malcolm shook his head, leaving it at, "I'm hot," and continuing on his way.

“That doesn’t sound work appropriate,” Dani called from behind him.

* * *

Responding to a scene at Pier 45 in the winter, everyone was wrapped in scarves to survive the chill. But Malcolm had his jacket open, the breeze pinkening his skin.

“Mr. Bright, you really should button up,” Edrisa advised, waiting to see him complete the action instead of continuing talking about the victim.

Gil rolled his hand at her to get on with it.

“Mr. Bright, your coat,” she repeated.

Dani snickered behind him and JT elbowed her to keep quiet.

“Edrisa,” Gil prompted, his patience disappearing with the falling temperature.

JT stepped in front of Malcolm so he was no longer seen to get the conversation moving. Malcolm’s head kept popping out to eye different aspects of interest, a bird that just wouldn’t stop flitting around. The antics didn't get any better the entire time they were at the scene.

Dani shoved Malcolm in her car to get him back to the precinct. “What is up with you?”

His fingers went to the dials to turn down the heat instead of answering.

“My car. Don’t touch.” She swatted his fingers away. “If you’re sick, just go _home_. Someplace you can’t germ everyone else.”

Whereas the rest of the team gave him a hard time and let his odd behaviors slide, Gil was more persistent. He pulled Malcolm into his office and closed the door. Malcolm stayed standing, even when Gil took a seat at the couch. "Wanna tell me why you've been acting like you're at the beach?" Gil asked, looking over him.

"I don't know." Malcolm occupied himself with the floor.

"As in you don't want to tell me, or - "

"I don't know why I've been sweaty." He pulled his jacket tighter around him in case Gil could see the damp spots under his arms.

"Did you stop to think maybe it would be worthwhile to find out?"

Malcolm shook his head.

Gil gestured for Malcolm to come toward him, and Malcolm begrudgingly moved and sat beside him. Gil reached out his hand and felt the back of his neck, his forehead. "You have a fever, Bright."

Malcolm shrugged.

"Any chills or pain?" Gil went through the rest of the checklist.

"I don't think so." _Oh, maybe_.

"Can you please go to the clinic?" Gil’s hand moved to his shoulder.

"Seems silly."

"Several days, Bright.” Gil’s concerned eyes tried to drive the point into his skull. “Go see if it's something bigger going on. I can drive you if you want.“

“It’s alright. I’ll go.”

* * *

As soon as Malcolm got to his desk the next morning, Gil appeared to sit on the side of it. "Anything?"

“They said likely a bug. Rest. Fluids,” Malcolm shared the information like it was the oldest treatment.

"And you're here." His hand rested on his hip.

"And you're surprised?" Malcolm put his coat on a hanger and settled into his seat.

"No."

"I feel fine."

“One of these days, I’m gonna get you to write the definition 100 times,” Gil warned, walking back to his office.

“Careful, I might enjoy it.”

“Definitely not work appropriate,” Dani hit the side of his desk as she passed.

* * *

When Malcolm showed up to work in a short sleeve button down with a tie the next week, he didn’t even make it to briefing before Gil had him in his office. "You had to have known I would send you back,” Gil says, smirking at his outfit choice in the middle of winter.

Malcolm had hoped he’d avoid the eventuality for at least a few hours. ”Yeah."

"You need a buddy?" He tipped his Yankee mug at him.

Malcolm shook his head. “I’ve got it. After work.”

“Now.” Gil set his mug firmly on his desk, punctuating his point.

“Wonderful.” Malcolm left the office with his head dropped, not even putting up a fight.

“GQ, what is this?” JT gestured at his bare arms.

A comeback was lost somewhere chewing his tongue. Whatever this fever was, he wanted it gone.

* * *

Malcolm planted his visit papers onto Gil’s desk a few hours later, knowing he wouldn’t take his explanation at face value. “It's a fever of unknown origin." He pulled a pill bottle of antibiotics out of his pocket and shook it between them. “They ran some tests. Gave me these. If it still doesn’t go away, they’ll run some more.” He turned around to leave the office. “I’m working.”

Gil didn’t argue, merely shook his head at him instead. “You’re a UFO.”

Malcolm paused at the door, not bothering to turn back. “I think you got the letters mixed up.”

“Not for unidentified feverish object. Want to argue with the guy who _will_ send you home?”

“Now your outfit’s not work appropriate, Bright?” Dani teased, walking by Gil’s office.

Not knowing how to respond to either of them, he went back to his desk, hoping to bury himself in work and deal with the rest later.

“Mr. Bright, where’s your jacket?” Edrisa’s voice came from behind him.

With a tip of his head in hello, he grabbed his bag and headed off to the bathroom. Hiding out in bed sounded pretty good about now.

* * *

_fin_


End file.
